


One Hundred and Three Poodles

by megsmichael



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 101 Dalmatians AU, Inspired by 101 Dalmatians, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Victor spelled Viktor, costume designer viktor, fashion designer viktor, hes still really famous though, no beta we die like men, poodles cause a lot of problems, really smart poodles, viktor is really forward, yuuri has a bit more chill than cannon yuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-15 20:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9256409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megsmichael/pseuds/megsmichael
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov use to be an up and coming world famous ice skater, but after his poodle, Makkachin gets abducted for her pelt to be made into Viktor's next costume, Viktor goes through a lot of life changes. A few years down the line, Viktor is a famous fashion designer for figure skaters and Yuuri Katsuki still idolizes him even after his major career change- and so does the entire figure skating world. How will the two find each other in this universe? Apparently through their mutual love of poodles.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So here’s the thing: I’ve been wanting to write a 101 Dalmatians au ever since episode 1 when I found out they both had poodles. The rest just kind of… happened. Its going to divert pretty heavily from 101D and even have some scenes from 102 but I wanted to write a story where their dogs brought them together and helped them fall in love. I’d also like to note that in 101D, the dogs are really smart so if it seems like Vicchan and Makka do some pretty impressive human things- that’s why.

**December, 2001**

“Yuuri, look!” Yukko called from the other room. They were done practicing at Ice Castle for the day and Yuuri was just lacing up his shoes when Yukko called out to him. He made his way over to the TV in the break room to see what Yukko was so excited about.

 “What’s up Yukko?”

 “Russia’s Viktor Nikiforov!” she breathed. “He won gold in the junior worlds with the highest score in history! He’s amazing!” Yuuri’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of a young teenager with long silver colored hair and a black skating costume with aqua gems glittering in the light as he spun around. Yuuri’s breath suddenly came faster and his chest ached watching the mesmerizing sight before him. If only he could skate like that. If only someone could look at Yuuri with the same wonder he felt gazing at Viktor Nikiforov now.

. . .

The next few weeks Yuuri put everything he had into his ice skating with Yukko. They watched a few more of Viktor’s performances before Yukko suggested trying out one of his earlier ones. Yuuri barely noticed when a month had passed by spending every day trying to perfect at least three different Viktor programs.

“This is how Viktor would do it!” Yuuko would always say.

. . .

**February 2002**

A couple months later and Yukko brought a magazine to practice one day declaring a special Viktor Nikiforov exclusive interview on the front page. Yukko paraded around with it all day until they were let loose for some free skating. She immediately approached Yuuri and gave him an overview of the interview.

“According to this Viktor has a poodle!”

“Aww, what a cute dog!”

. . .

**October, 2002**

It wasn’t too long after that Yuuri himself convinced his parents to adopt a tiny brown poodle puppy that he named Vicchan. When he showed him to Yukko, she was as supportive as ever, encouraging Yuuri to keep practicing so he could compete against Viktor one day.

. . .

**January 2005**

“Recent news regarding the poodle kidnapping in St. Petersburg, Russia leads local officials to the well-known Figure Skating Fashion Design and costuming industry. More information has yet to be released regarding the connection, but the investigation into fur production continues."

The television at Yuuri’s family run inn had been reporting the progress of the kidnapping of Viktor Nikiforov’s poodle Maccachin for the last couple of days, and Yuuri couldn’t take his eyes away. Yukko was updating him periodically throughout the week, and she was even the first person to let him know about the scandal. Yuuri cuddled Vicchan closer, who whimpered along with him as the newscaster continued. Yuuri could hardly believe someone monstrous enough existed to dognapp a full sized poodle just for the pelt.

“Young Junior Gold Medalist, Viktor Nikiforov is now fully involved in the investigation, handing over three separate costumes from his rink mates that unknowingly had worn poodle and dog fur in their programs years previous.”

At that, Yuuri let out a shudder and Vicchan covered his nose with his paw. To think… All those kids wearing animal fur thinking it was fake… how cruel. Yuuri didn’t think he could ever forgive himself if something like that happened to him. Even if he didn’t know.

. . .

**February 2005**

“Yuuri! Did you hear!” Yukko skating out to the center rink where Yuuri was currently practicing a new routine for the upcoming local tournament when she bowled right into him, his headphones popping out of his ears.

“Yuuri!!”

“Yukko!!”

“They found her!” At that Yuuri’s jaw dropped open and they scrambled together off the ice. Yuuri’s skate caught in a rut, but Yukko gripped his shoulder and kept him upright. They made their way towards the benches and Yuuri hauled his skates off so fast he slipped the blade on his hand, but barely even registered the blood before he was running shoeless towards the TV.

“Flip it on, flip it on, come on Yukko!” he was hitting her arm, trying to speed up the process. She ignored but and tinkered with the remote even faster. Then the TV lit up the small room and the newscaster’s voice boasted over to them. The two teens huddled up together on the bench to watch.

“– leaving St. Petersburg by private plane, but was intercepted before their escape. The criminals are being held at a local jail overnight before they are transferred to Moscow Prison in the morning. We caught up with Nikiforov earlier today to get his reaction. The young iceskater would like to thank everyone who helped with the search and investigation and says he couldn’t be happier to have his poodle, Maccachin back at home.”

Yuuri let out a large sigh of relief and Yukko beside him did the same. On the screen, a short video of the reunion between Viktor and Maccachin was played and Yuuri felt himself tearing up a bit, reaching for a Vicchan that wasn’t there. Over the last few weeks it was practically assumed that Maccachin was dead, but apparently the criminals wanted to make Viktor’s new costume with his fur– how creepy– as a final present to the ice skater for ‘good luck.’

“It’s just sick that people would try something like that.” Yukko said, whipping her eyes on her sleeve. Yuuri nodded, somber.

“She’s safe now, at least.” Was all Yuuri could think to say.

. . .

**May 2005**

The television drones on in the background, but Yuuri can’t hear anything past the first couple of sentences.

“Viktor Nikiforov takes a detrimental fall during an evening practice, sending him to the emergency room where his family waits patiently to hear if Nikiforov can take the ice again.”

Viktor was injured. Viktor was injured while skating and may never be able to skate again. Viktor might have to _retire_. Yuuri began breathing heavier and heavier, not even noticing when Vicchan comes up and sticks his large head under Yuuri’s arm. Yuuri is sitting on the floor, his hands covering his face, and can feel his anxiety bubbling to the surface. _This can’t be happening. What if Yuuri never gets to skate on the same ice as Viktor some day? What if everything he’s been working towards be for nothing? And poor Viktor! He’s gone through so much lately!_

Yuuri was so deep into his attack, he almost missed the large slobbers on his face, but suddenly registered Vicchan, who immediately stopped, put his paws down from Yuuri’s chest and looked at him with sad eyes. Yuuri took another deep breath, then moved one shaky hand to Vicchan’s head, who immediately brightened and rubbed into Yuuri’s palm.

“Sorry boy.” He said, “Thanks though.” He continued on his his pets, and Vicchan snuggled closer. The poodle’s eyes looked sad though, as if understanding the emotions Yuuri was going through and trying to comfort him. Yuuri wrapped his arms around his now full sized poodle and buried his face in the soft curls of his grey fur. _It’s just not fair,_ he thought.

. . .

**September 2005**

Viktor announced his retirement a few months later after several coaches and doctors determined his torn ACL impossible to compete on anymore. Even through his retirement though, Viktor kept skating, but couldn’t seem to land anything above a triple, his legs refused to make the jumps. Yuuri followed his failing career religiously for that whole year, begging any deity out there for a miracle to let Viktor continue with the amazing career he seemed to have just started.

At this point, Viktor was in the senior division already and won a few medals, but his potential was unending early on until the accident. Yuuri himself was gearing up to make his debut in the junior division after barely qualifying last year, but he still had a lot to prove this coming season. If Viktor could just hold on for one more season so they could at least compete at the same tournament– but no. According to everything Yuuri heard so far, Viktor’s career was truly over.

. . .

**November 2005**

Yuuri was in the middle of the Grand Prix series when he gets a call from Yukko, whose watching his performance from half way around the world.

“Turn on the TV, Yuuri, there’s something you need to see.”

Yuuri had brought Vicchan with him to Detroit when he signed on with Celestino earlier last year, and he was gearing up to leave for the Cup of China when he answered Yukko’s call. She hung up pretty soon after that though so Yuuri shrugged and moved over to the small television in his room that Vicchan was already sitting in front of, watching intently.

“What is it boy? What’s going on?” Yuuri asked to which Vicchan let out an excited bark and wagged his tail, turning in a circle a few times as Yuuri approached.

“This just in, our sources tell us Viktor Nikiforov is returning to the figure skating scene–“ and Yuuri felt his heart drop. “But not in the way you’d expect.” Yuuri suddenly felt the need to sit down. Could it be? He rested on the edge of his bed and Vicchan hopped up next to him, nudging his hand for a stroke.

“The well known ex-gold medalist figure skater recently announced his come back into the figure skating community, not as a competitor, but as a costume design artist. While this sudden career change seems unprecedented, his coaches reassure us that the design industry has interested the young athlete ever since his heavy involvement into the ethics of the industry earlier this year. He will release a clothing line early next year to test out his designs, funded by the millions won from the lawsuit.”

Yuuri flipped off the TV but remained staring at the screen, completely shocked. Vicchan continued rubbing his head on Yuuri’s now still hand, but otherwise there was no movement in the room.

“Okay, Vicchan,” he said, “I can work with this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always welcome! tell me how I did! and follow me on tumblr- if that's your thing- at trenchcoatedsoldier.tumblr.com 
> 
> with love~ Meg.


	2. Puppy Love

Yuuri Katsuki could barely watch as Viktor Nikiforov chatted up the gold medalist, Christophe Giacometti yet again for the third consecutive year. They were at the banquet proceeding the GPF final where Yuuri failed yet again to make the podium. He knows he shouldn’t feel so bad about it since this was the first year he’d even qualified, but landing in last place when he was so determined to get Viktor Nikiforov to finally notice him was, well, the most embarrassing moment of his career. Yuuri could do nothing but stare and try to envision himself as the man Viktor Nikiforov decided to dress for next year.

It had become a superstition really among the men’s figure skating world, how depending on who Viktor chose to dress for the next season, they would medal the following year. Everyone was clamoring to schmoose up to the 27 year old costume design legend, but his decision in the end was pretty much confirmed by who made the podium. To Yuuri’s utter dismay, he was well out of potential skaters to win that honor. Yuuri realized he’d been staring, but couldn’t take his eyes away. It’s just that– he’d gotten _so close._

Just then, Viktor’s head turned his eyes and landed on Yuuri. Yuuri almost panicked and glanced away, but found that he couldn’t- caught by the electric blue eyes of the Russian man. They held eye contact for two seconds, three, four, five– and then Viktor turned back to Christophe, who was pulling at his sleeves.

Yuuri inhaled deeply as he turned away then closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself. It wasn’t fair that after only a few seconds of Viktor looking at him would turn him into complete mush. Yuuri practically forced his eyes open in an attempt to appear unfazed to anyone that might have seen the exchange.

 _I might as well retire,_ Yuuri thought to himself. _Even after giving this season my all, I still couldn’t medal. I’m a sham, being here at this banquet, pretending I’m good enough to socialize with people like Viktor Nikiforov._ Yuuri grabbed a flute of champagne off a tray as a waiter passed by, trying to distract himself from his fast approaching anxiety attack.

If it weren’t for Celestino, Yuuri wouldn’t have even shown up, but his coach was tenacious when it came to supporting his fellow skaters and Yuuri understood, to an extent. It would only take a few more drinks to finally forget the night enough the fall asleep, so Yuuri downed his current glass and committed himself to a night of drunken bliss.

. . .

 

about a week after the banquet, Yuuri woke to a screaming headache and a loud bark of agitation from Vicchan, who proceeded to slobber all over Yuuri’s face when he noticed his human finally conscious. Yuuri swiped his hand at Vicchan, pushing the grey poodle off his bed and tugging the pillow over his head while turning over. His alarm clock screeched from the shelf above his bed and the smell of coffee drifting through the bedroom door was making him nauseous.

 _Morning already?_ Yuuri could only remember falling asleep in the middle of working on a midterm for class, but wasn’t sure how he made it from the couch to the bed. He scrunched up his face, trying to force the memories back, but when all that did was irritate his headache, he sighed and sat up in bed.

Vicchan was perched in the doorway, his floof of a tail swaying back and forth excitedly, beckoning Yuuri into the kitchen to begin their day. The apartment room was small, but fully furnished enough for a few weeks stay while Yuuri forewent the Japanese Nationals, bringing an end to his season.

He figured he might as well find a more comfortable place than a one bedroom hotel to hole up in if he wasn’t going to be retuning to Detroit soon, still trying to decide if he did still actually want to retire. Best not to buy a plane ticket anywhere when he wasn’t sure of his plans quite yet. Bringing Vicchan to Russia was a spur of the moment decision before the GPF, but thanks to Phichit’s insistence, one he didn’t regret. It also meant he could bring him to Japan without having to go back to the states if need be and he truly retires.

Vicchan had already pawed at the coffee machine to heat up the water so Yuuri just had to add the beans to begin the brew. Speaking of his over energetic fifty pound pain in the ass, the poodle was currently curled up in front of the TV watching some Dalmatian cartoon. Yuuri walked over to him, stroking his head briefly before moving to the food dish next to the door and filling it. Vicchan came trotting over and began munching happily.

“You don’t happen to know what I should do, do you boy?” Yuuri asked a confused looking poodle who raised then tilted his head at Yuuri’s question. “Yeah, didn’t think so.” Vicchan went back to his breakfast and Yuuri moved into the kitchen to find something for himself.

After they both ate, Yuuri showered, and Vicchan shut off the TV, Yuuri began bundling himself up to trek out into the frigid Russian winter. He grabbed Vicchan’s leash from the hook by the door and clipped it to his collar.

“Alright,” Yuuri said standing up and opening the door, “Time for a walk.” The pair headed out the short hallway to the entrance of the complex and then through the front gate until they reached the bike Yuuri had parked on the fence. He figured they could head to the local park for the morning exercize. While he peddled, Yuuri thought about where he was going from here. Since he wasn’t going to Nationals in Japan this year, he could either go back to Hasetsu to get ready for next season on his own, or join his coach back in Detroit.

Vicchan was always really good on the leash when Yuuri was on the bike, so he didn’t have to worry too much when he had to cross traffic or turn the wheel. The only time it got a bit more difficult was when Vicchan saw other dogs. Then Yuuri would have to tug a little to get Vicchan to keep jogging with him, but would quickly loose interest. That’s why Yuuri was a bit surprised when Vicchan suddenly pulled hard and fast on his leash right when they entered the park.

“Vicchan! Down boy!” Yuuri pulled back and put the brakes on his bike. Vicchan was now facing the other way towards the lake barking at probably another dog he saw down the path, but thankfully stopped when told. Yuuri corralled his poodle to the other side of the bike to keep going around the trail. “What’s going on with you? You’re usually not this spastic around other dogs.” Yuuri scolded down at him.

There was a juice stand around the other side of the park that Yuuri had grown fold of so he was headed in that direction to check out the local eats before working on some class homework back at the apartment. Suddenly the front of Yuuri’s bike jerked sideways again as the leash attached strained and Vicchan took off in the other direction. Yuuri called out, trying to apply the breaks for the second time but Vicchan was now moving at top speed down the track back towards the lake.

“Vicchan!! Slow down!” Yuuri tried to direct the bike away from the few other people strolling the path, and heard a few angry Russian phrases shouted at him as they almost collided. “Vicchan, enough! Stop!” But the poodle ignored him and ran faster, dragging Yuuri along with this feet hitting the pavement. The brakes were clutched so heavily, smoke was billowing from the tires and Yuuri called out for people to get out of the way as he tried to stop. If he could just reach the leash–

Vicchan jerked suddenly to the right, sending Yuuri nearly toppling over his now disjointed bike, letting out a yelp as he attempted to right himself with Vicchan still pulling ahead. Yuuri just barely caught the hint of brown curls halfway up the path before it disappeared behind a tree. Yuuri gave one last attempt to reach for the leash and right the bike when he heard a loud _SNAP._ He couldn’t see where he was headed, it all happened so fast, but before he knew it he was flung over the back of a park bench and send flying bodily into the partially frozen over lake.

Yuuri’s entire body jolted the second he hit the water, but luckily it was only a few feet deep, so the shock didn’t drown him. He sat up and groaned at the numerous aches and pains now dotting his entire frame. He rubbed at a spot on his back, then attempted to stand, looking around for Vicchan. He just saw the tail end of him trotting up a hill after a similarly shaped poodle. _Oh that little devil,_ Yuuri thought, completely enraged at his horny good for nothing dog.

He walked to the shore and crawled over the few feet of rocks banking it, slipping and landing hard on his knee. He seethed through his teeth, but kept moving forward. Dripping wet and frozen from the shoulders down. His hands were tucked under his armpits as he stalked after his dog. He quickly glanced over and noticed his bike, mangled and broken stuck halfway over the park bench he’d been catapulted over. _I’ll deal with that later._

Once over the small hill, he spotted Vicchan sniffing a small plot of grass not covered in snow. Yuuri silently raged as he sneaked behind the poodle, taking tentative steps until he could pounce on the snapped in half leash. Only a few… steps… more… _Ah Ha!_

Yuuri lept and snached the leash from the ground, but right as he did so, Vicchan’s head popped up and hauled ass in the other direction. Yuuri– now holding said leash– was whipped around with it until he found himself tangling up with a body directly behind him.

“Vicchan! What?–“ Yuuri tried to get the dog to _just stop hopping the fuck around_ but Vicchan was uncharacteristically spastic as he wound himself around Yuuri’s legs and the person standing now in front of him. Looking down trying to sort out the mess he noticed another dog tangled up in the mess. _So this is the culprit!_ Yuuri noticed the other dog was acting just as excited as it spun it’s owner into just a tangled of a mess.

“Makka, stop!” the man in front of him said. Yuuri had one arm around the man’s side still gripping the end of Vicchan’s leash, no way letting go of it now after all of that, and the man (by the sound of his voice, presumably) had both arms encasing Yuuri as he tried to sort out his own poodle. After only a moments of struggle, The two dogs had wound themselves around their owner’s legs so tight they could none of them could move so both poodles simply sat and began licking and sniffing each other.

Yuuri let out a sigh of relief that they had finally settled and then relaxed– against the very _firm_ body in front of him. He pulled back (as far as he could with his legs caught against the other’s) to look the man in the face and began profusely apologizing.

“I’m so sorry! I don’t know what got into him, he’s usually not this…” But Yuuri trailed off as he made eye contact with the man in front of him. He thought for a moment he was hallucinating, but not even his most vivid fantasies could make those eyes that bright of an aqua blue.

“Don’t worry about it,” Viktor Nikiforov, ice skating fashion designing legend smiled at him, making an adorable heart shape with his mouth and his fringe falling over his left eye gracefully. “It looks like they like each other!”

Yuuri could feel his mouth hanging open but couldn’t get his brain to anything about it. He stared for one… two… three seconds and then blushed so red he could barely feel the ice crystals forming on his dripping clothes by the heat travelling fast through him.

“Why are you all wet?” Viktor asked with a curious tone of voice that made Yuuri feel like he was being made fun of. At that, Yuuri’s brain suddenly switched back on to remember how annoyed he was at his good for nothing poodle of chaos. Yuuri attempted to step out of the tangle of leashes around his calves, now able to properly move since Vicchan and ‘Makka’ had stopped their jumping. Viktor stood patiently while Yuuri struggled, only extracting his hands from around Yuuri’s waist. Yuuri looked down scornfully at Vicchan.

“I went swimming in the pond.” He said, finally able to detach himself of Viktor Nikiforov, himself. Without missing a beat Viktor stepped forward and respond,

“Oh you shouldn’t have, the water’s freezing.” Yuuri looked up at him to see that same heart shaped smile and crinkled eyes. He couldn’t tell if Viktor was being serious or trying to be funny. Whatever, it didn’t matter Yuuri was still pissed and this was decidedly _NOT_ how he wanted to make the acquaintanceship of Viktor Nikiforov.

“Yeah, and it tastes like dirt.” Yuuri shot back. Viktor began winding up his poodle’s leash as well, now free from their knotting.

“And you’ve lost a shoe, did you know that?” Viktor said almost casually. Yuuri blinked twice, then looked down. This whole conversation was just surreal.

“Yes, I did. As a matter of fact I did.” Yuuri looked back at Vicchan who had his head downcast and his tail between his legs. Yuuri frowned at him. “As I was running down the gravel path.”

Viktor let out an amused huff. “Oh, I’m ever so sorry, I mean, I thought if you were silly enough to so swimming in a frozen pond you’d be silly enough not to realize you’d lost a shoe.” Yuuri looked up and narrowed his eyes. This was definitely not how he envisioned this conversation going.

“Actually I crashed my bicycle into the pond.”

“A very silly thing to do.” Viktor said, stroking the head of his unnaturally poised poodle next to him. Yuuri sighed and tried to will his heart to stop pounding. He needed to get out of this situation and go get his bike. And sleep until he forgot this day even happened. Viktor was only staring at him with a small, gentle smile on his lips and Yuuri’s heart leapt into his throat when he noticed. Yeah, time to go.

“Well,” he said in the standard wrapping up a conversation tone, “It was nice being insulted by you…” And Yuuri was just about to say his name, but stopped himself last minute so as not to seem even more creepy and weird than he already did. Viktor though, took this as a posing question.

“My name’s Viktor,” he said, outstretching his hand. Yuuri took it hesitantly. “And your name’s Yuuri,” Viktor said confidently, but at Yuuri’s startled expression he added with widened, almost surprised eyes, “I read it on your dog’s identification tag when he came up to Makkachin.” Yuuri looked down at Vicchan again, noticing the shine on the tag that gave out his basic contact information in English (because it was the easiest to recognize when travelling).

“Oh,” he said simply. “Oh, well, uh,” and Yuuri could feel his anxiety building after the initial round of endorphins faded. If he didn’t leave soon, he would probably end up making an even bigger fool out of himself than he already was. “I hope I didn’t alarm you.”

“Oh no, that’s fine.” Viktor waved the idea away, stepping closer to Yuuri and smiling down at him. “Since we both seem to have a certain fondness for poodles.” And then he gave Yuuri that heart shaped smile again that nearly melted him through to his shoes. At that, Yuuri heard Vicchan let out a whine and looked down to see him paw at Makkachin’s face, who was doing the same.

“Well they certainly seem to have a fondness for each other…” Yuuri mused aloud, but then blushed at the silly idea. Yep, he was getting weirder by the second. He couldn’t be blamed though, this whole situation was like some strange, uncomfortable dream. Vicchan walked forward a few paces and placed his head over the dip in Makkachin’s back, who did the same. It was like a loving embrace as far as dog language went and Yuuri smiled. It was pretty cute after all.

“Well… Vicchan.” Yuuri began again, itching to just _get out of here._ He tried to think of something, anything not dumb to say. He ended up saying the first thing that came to mind, which turned out to be the source of his irritation. “Your roaming eyes have gotten me into enough trouble today.” He scolded down to his dog and began stepping past Viktor to head to his bike down on the trail.

“Nice to meet you, Viktor.” He ended with lamely. The Yuuri abruptly turned away, tugging Vicchan’s leash, who helpfully came without incident. Viktor seemed startled by his sudden leave and turned around, calling over to Yuuri.

“Um, are you sure you’ll be alright? Perhaps you should call your doctor? The water is actually pretty chilly! You could get a cold!” Yuuri walked faster down the hill but spun to address the silver haired man who was moving forwards as Yuuri moved backwards.

“I’ll be fine!” Then he turned back around. He assumed the conversation was over but he heard a few heavy steps moving towards him from behind and a call of,

“You might get hypothermia, you shouldn’t walk home alone!” Yuuri knew Viktor was just being a kind and upstanding citizen looking out for a random Asian man in a park, but he could almost convince himself he heard a note of desperation in Viktor’s voice. Yuuri was already to his bike though and simply grabbed the handle bars and began making his way back the way they came.

Viktor must have stopped following him and gave up because Yuuri didn’t hear anything coming from behind anymore. He let out a sigh of relief, and finally felt the embarrassment set in fully. He covered his face with one hand as he steered the bike and held Vicchan’s leash in the other.

“You could have gotten me killed, Vicchan, you know that?” He asked his poodle, who whined and turned his head around probably to locate Makkachin again. Yuuri looked back too when Vicchan barked. Viktor and Makkachin were standing at the top of the hill, watching them leave, and Makkachin let out a bark in response. Viktor waved small and sweet, but Yuuri, with his hands full, just smiled and turned back around, his ears red.

“Come on, Vicchan,” he said.

. . .

 

Up on the hill Viktor looked on as the Japanese man named Yuuri and his large grey poodle made their way out of the park. 

“Wow, what an adorable man. Cute too, don’t you think?” He asked down at Makkachin who was looking on towards them. She let out a bark of agreement.

. . .

 

Yuuri was back on his bike, even if the front wheel was a bit bent and the peddles cocked this way and that. He was at the edge of the park, just about to cross the street and circle the fountain and then he’d be home free down the stretch of road to his apartment. Vicchan was standing patiently at his side as Yuuri mindlessly chatted about the meeting, both waiting for the traffic to clear to cross.

“It’s not like I’d thought through exactly what I would say when I did approach him or anything, I just assumed... well… that it wouldn’t be like that!” The last car from the opposite direction made it’s way past and Yuuri pushed his bike forward. “Shall we?” He asked Vicchan. But Yuuri noticed Vicchan’s eyes were still turned backwards. Yuuri sighed again, feeling sorry for his poodle’s lost love, but when he turned around to follow Vicchan’s line of sight, he was surprised to see Viktor peddling down a path a few blocks away, Makkachin fast behind him. Was it weird to think Viktor looked incredibly elegant on a bike? Vicchan whined again.

Yuuri turned away and directed Vicchan across the street. He went to the fountain, riding around the outside of it for a short distance. It was a big fountain after all. There were a surprising amount of people out and about on such a chilly morning, but Russians were probably use to this type of cold.

In his musings, Yuuri had almost made a complete circle around the pond. Vicchan barked up at him. Glancing around the fountain as subtly as he could manage, he noticed Viktor biking along the other side. Yuuri continued around the fountain for a second loop. Vicchan barked more insistently at him.

“You have it all wrong, Vicchan. I’m just trying to decide on a route home. It has nothing whatsoever to do with Viktor.” Yuuri shook his head and peddled slower. Finally he turned down one of the pathways branching off the fountain (the one he originally should have taken) and decided to leave all thoughts of Viktor Nikiforov behind him. Literally leaving the man behind him.

Yuuri felt like he was finally far enough away to shake off the meeting when he heard a commotion behind him. Although he was out of the park, the lake ran a ways along the pathway towards home, so hearing a loud splash caused Yuuri to turn quickly and see what all the fuss was. He was only about eighty percent sure what was going on when he thought he heard a loud call of, “MAKKA!”

Biking over slowly to the river front, there sat none other than Viktor Nikiforov drenched from the waist down with ice slabs drifting next to him and his arms wrapped around his torso.

 . . .

 

“Ugh,” Viktor sniffled, seemingly annoyed with his newly developed cold, “I’ve never been rescued before,” he mused, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

They had made their way back to Yuuri’s apartment and were now drinking tea in front of the lit fireplace, their clothes hanging from the hearth to dry. Yuuri’s face was stuck in a perpetual blush, seeing Viktor stripped down to his briefs and wearing one of Yuuri’s larger button up shirts that fell elegantly over one shoulder. Viktor’s legs were drawn up casually on the sofa and Yuuri, having little seating in his small living room, was sat next to him. He tried to maintain a certain distance anyway however, causing him to hug the arm of the couch uncomfortably. He was confused though to find Viktor a little closer every time he looked up at the other man.

Makkachin and Vicchan were snuggled together in a nest of blankets next to the couch, also enjoying the warmth of the fire. Yuuri, trying to distract himself by looking everywhere but Viktor, was watching the two poodles snuggle. Vicchan raised his head to place over Makkachin’s paws, and Makkachin, in turn, moved her head to rest lightly against Vicchan’s neck. Yuuri suppressed a cooing noise, but noticed the quiet room, realized Viktor had said something and Yuuri quickly tuned in to catch the end of it.

“It was very exciting.” Viktor nearly whispered next to him. Yuuri looked up at the other man, surprised that he seemed to be even closer. Yuuri blushed even harder, moving his head back. The whole situation was incredibly surreal, Viktor in his apartment, in his space, acting like he wasn’t incredibly rich and famous and a celebrity heart throb. Yuuri could barely suppress an awed expression every time he looked at him. Viktor moved even closer, now practically leaning over Yuuri as he inclined back, a certain twinkle in his eye Yuuri couldn’t quite place.

“But you were ever so sweet to give me a kiss,” Viktor practically purred down at him. Yuuri’s ears turned red, gawking at Viktor, finally actually registering what he was talking about. Through his embarrassment, he was suddenly confused.

“That wasn’t a kiss.” Yuuri said bluntly. “That was mouth to mouth resuscitation.” Viktor pulled back slightly, mercifully, now looking a bit confused himself.

“Oh,” he said.

Yuuri felt the need to explain himself.

“Besides,” he started, sitting up straighter now that Viktor had nearly fully leaned back into his own space. “It didn’t really work very well, you’re suppose to lie flat on your back and remain still.” Yuuri lifted his mug to take another sip of tea during his explanation, feeling a bit snarky all of a sudden. “I couldn’t really do it properly with your arms around my neck.” Yuuri glanced over at Viktor over the rim of his mug. He noticed Viktor smirk ever so slightly, like he was trying not to but failing. Viktor took a sip as well, covering it. 

“I’m ever so sorry,” he said, but Yuuri could hear the smile in his voice, like they were sharing a joke. Yuuri perked up, trying to reassure Viktor, not wanting the other man to feel embarrassed (Yuuri felt enough of that for the both of them).

“No, no... no, that’s… alright.” He took another sip of his tea, unsure how to continue.

“Well you give a very good rescue,” Viktor said, smiling over at him and setting his mug in his lap.

“Thank you.” Yuuri said awkwardly. They sat there again in silence for a few minutes, Yuuri not sure what to say. Was it awkward for Viktor? The other man’s demeanor seemed perfectly calm, but he was bouncing his fingers against his mug and looking away.

Yuuri turned back to Vicchan and this time couldn’t help the quiet ‘aww’ that escaped his lips at the adorable sight. He nudged Viktor and motioned over to the poodles. Vicchan was now licking Makkachin’s face like a caress and Yuuri smiled, sharing a stolen glance with Viktor as they watched their dogs cuddle.

Yuuri allowed himself the smallest twinge of longing in his heart, wishing for the love he could so clearly see between Vicchan and Makkachin. The feeling only lasted a second though, before logic set in and Yuuri reminded himself that he lived in Japan and practiced in Detroit and he wasn’t going to be in Russia for very much longer no matter how uncertain his future was. Then a thought occurred to him, watching his dog, so obviously in love.

“I think we have a problem,” he said to Viktor, still watching Vicchan curl closer to the brown poodle. Viktor made a sound of acknowledgement at his words, so Yuuri looked up to show Viktor his worry. “I think my dog is in love.”

Viktor simply looked into Yuuri’s eyes, and when did they end up pressed together like this? Viktor chuckled at that, glancing back down at Makkachin and saying, “I think mine is too.” He brought his eyes back to Yuuri’s and the Japanese man couldn’t help himself from meeting Viktor’s intense and questioning gaze. “Why is that a problem?” He asked, as if it shouldn’t be a problem at all. Yuuri found himself unable to look away even as Viktor took another sip of tea.

“Well,” he said, but then had to clear his throat. He tried again. “They’re going to be broken hearted when they leave.” And Yuuri wasn’t sure if he was talking about Vicchan and Makkachin anymore, still holding eye contact to the point of almost discomfort. At his words, both dog’s heads shot up and Makkachin let out a whine, her big brown eyes looking pleadingly up at the two humans. Only at the sound was Yuuri able to pull his eyes away from Viktor’s captivating gaze to stare down at the puppy love by his feet.

“Oh, I don’t think I could bare to leave with a broken-hearted poodle.” Viktor said in that same playful, yet secret-sharing tone of his. Yuuri was too afraid to make eye contact with him again lest he be captured and unable to move away.

“Yes, they’re miserable when they’re lonely.” Yuuri said. He could feel Viktor’s eyes on him, could practically feel his breath on his neck as he spoke. Yuuri was fighting the temptation to just _look._

“Well, we better think of something,” Viktor said, like a conclusion, setting his hand on Yuuri’s thigh. At this, Yuuri had no choice but to look up. And once their eyes reconnected, all conscious reasoning left his brain, leaving him a pile of mush and his thoughts illegible. Viktor, without breaking the contact, moved his free hand to set down his own mug, and then grabbed Yuuri’s, placing it on the coffee table as well.

Viktor raised his eyebrows, as if encouraging Yuuri to respond. He felt like he was floating in a dream, how warm and comfortable he was, sitting brushed up against Viktor and staring into the very eyes he’d been imagining every night since he first learned Viktor’s name. Viktor was leaning closer to him again and Yuuri couldn’t turn away, truly captivated.

He had to think of something, anything. This couldn’t be real. He had to break this spell or risk breaking his own heart, or worse, making a fool out of himself. There was no way Viktor was planning on doing what Yuuri was desperately hoping he was about to do. He suddenly remembered the feeling of Viktor taking his mug from his hands. That’s it. Tea, they’ll have some more tea.

“Do you want another cup of marriage?” Yuuri asked.

“Excuse me?” Viktor’s eyes went wide.

Yuuri blinked hard, registering what he’d said. “Tea!” He blurted out instantly, trying to correct himself. “Another cup of… tea?” His ears were once again inflamed.

“You said marriage.” Viktor said almost accusingly. Well at least the strange spell was broken and Yuuri could breathe normally. Except now he was embarrassed all over again. He could fix this. He had to fix this!

“Uh, marriage?” There, he’d pretend like he didn’t even say it.

Viktor frowned at him, leaning back.

“Yes, that’s what you said.” He insisted, refusing to _just let_ Yuuri move past his mistake. “I mean, you meant to say tea,” Viktor was saying looking away, almost confused, but continued on by looking back at Yuuri. “But it… it came out marriage.” Yuuri felt caught, almost like Viktor was accusing him of lying or something. It wasn’t a big deal. He just… wasn’t thinking when he spoke. Why was this such a big deal to Viktor? Why couldn’t he just let this go instead of drowning Yuuri in further embarrassment?

“Oh.” Was all his brain could come up with now. “I’m sorry.” He could play this off. _It isn’t a big deal._ “Do you w-want another cup of… tea?” They stared at each other for a beat… and then two… Yuuri’s cheeks slowly turning redder and redder. Viktor only watched him, an indiscernible look on his face.

“I do.” Is all he said.

Yuuri choked on his own spit, well and truly incapable of functioning like a normal human. Both dogs jolted at the sound, but Viktor only stared. Yuuri stood up instantly, he just couldn’t take this weird energy anymore.

“Okay then!” He shouted a bit too loud for the intimate atmosphere of his living room. He bent over with shaky hands and picked up both mugs, avoiding further eye contact so as not to get sucked in for a third time. What was with this guy? This was not at all what Yuuri expected from the man. Whenever Yuuri watched him in interviews or during backstage specials for his clothing line or runways, Viktor was always poised and stoic. This silly, smiley, and dare he say, _flirty_ Viktor was a whole new being that Yuuri just couldn’t handle.

He walked into the kitchen leaving a flustered looking Viktor on the couch. He just needed some space to breathe, that’s all. Sure it had been a while since he’d hung out with someone new, but he never remembered it being this tense talking to another person before. There was a certain energy in the living room Yuuri couldn’t seem to shake himself from. It was best to just take a moment to himself to gather his thoughts.

Did he really just say that? Marriage? What was he thinking? He wasn’t thinking. That’s what. Viktor was just so close and staring so hard, and moving that tantalizing hand on his thigh. It wasn’t like Yuuri was just that dense or anything, he knew what this looked like, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around Viktor… wanting him … like that.

As Yuuri was pouring the tea, he decided it was impossible. Yes, he was just caught up in the atmosphere was all. They were both just… stuck in the moment. Viktor didn’t _actually_ want to kiss him just then, that would be ridiculous. Yuuri was just projecting his own desires onto his once idol. Nodding his head resolutely at that sound logic, Yuuri grabbed the mugs and was just turning around when he startled as a human-shaped pillar blocked his way. He immediately noticed that the pillar was actually Viktor, gazing down at him. Yuuri blushed suddenly, his eyes trailing up a half-naked Viktor Nikiforov wearing grey socks, tight black briefs, Yuuri’s own shirt, and nothing else.

He was just about to open his mouth, not even sure what he was going to say, an, ‘oh, excuse me’ maybe, when Viktor cupped his hand against Yuuri’s jaw, effectively silencing him. Viktor’s eyes were hooded and his hair fell delicately over one eye, completing his smoldering look.

“Yuuri~,” he asked, and Yuuri could feel his warm breath against his lips, they were standing so close. “Do you know who I am?” Viktor asked, his voice deep and calm. Yuuri was practically shaking at their compromising position, gripping the mug handles so tight his knuckles were white. Viktor waited patiently for him to respond, not moving except his thumb slowly stroking his cheek. Yuuri thought he was doing it almost subconsciously, how soft the touch was.

His brain whirred to life at a thousand miles a second, trying to come up with the best answer. If he said no, and Viktor later found out Yuuri was an ice skater, he’d know Yuuri was lying just now. No competitive figure skater in the world didn’t know the name Viktor Nikiforov. But if he said yes? What kind of door would that open? Was Yuuri prepared to answer the questions that would no doubt follow? And how would he explain the ‘meeting’ in the park then if Viktor now knew Yuuri recognized him? Viktor watched him carefully. That thumb still moving in slow circles, short-circuiting Yuuri’s brain.

The truth then, he decided. Yuuri’s disjointed thoughts would never make it through a lie in a position like this.

“Yes,” he practically whispered, meeting Viktor’s eyes.

Viktor suddenly smiled, so bright it could have blinded Yuuri and his eyes twinkled in apparent excitement. Yuuri wasn’t sure why Viktor responded like that, but he must have said something right, because the next moment Viktor was pushing his lips against Yuuri’s, the hand on his cheek sliding back to grip Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri was star-struck, the unexpected reaction causing him to nearly go weak in the knees. He was so startled, he barely registered the sound of a mug shattering against the floor, dropping both of them and splashing tea against both of their legs. Viktor didn’t seem to register it at all though, moving his other arm around Yuuri’s waist and walking him backwards until Yuuri’s hips slammed against the counter behind him.

Viktor’s kiss was a force of nature, dragging a moan out of Yuuri, and lunging back in after every slight break of the kiss. It was hungry and almost desperate and Yuuri couldn’t keep up, his head fizzing and feeling out of control. He could just make out Viktor speaking between kisses, then diving back in for more, his hips moving in between Yuuri’s legs so that they were pressed flush together.

“I’ve thought about you every day since that night,” Viktor breathed into the space between them, not giving Yuuri the chance to respond before moving back in for more, his tongue sliding against Yuuri’s bottom lip, then slipping into his mouth, Yuuri’s heart was thudding so furiously against his chest, it was a wonder Viktor couldn’t feel the pounding- how close they were pressed. It took Yuuri a few seconds to comprehend what Viktor had said, but when he did, he paused.

Viktor didn’t seem to notice Yuuri had gone still, continuing to explore his mouth and sliding his hand over every inch if Yuuri’s back. The shorter man realized if he wanted to say anything, he was going to have to push Viktor away. He moved his hands from around Viktor’s waist (when had they gotten there?) to slide up his chest. Viktor let out a moan, seeming to appreciate the movement, and then Yuuri felt the older man slide his hips closer. And that was what it took. Yuuri couldn’t let this continue any further without getting some answers.

He pushed at Viktor’s chest, sliding his mouth away and breathing heavily when Viktor removed his tongue. The Russian didn’t seem to feel the pressure of Yuuri’s hands, apparently, instead moving his lips down Yuuri’s neck, misinterpreting the younger man’s desire. Yuuri pushed a bit more firmly, trying to find his voice and croaking out Viktor’s name.

“Viktor,” he said, or practically moaned, still swept up in Viktor’s hungry kisses. The other man made a “hmm?” sound, not stopping his ministrations to Yuuri’s neck, sucking and nipping and trying his damnedest to form a hickey on his throat. Yuuri bit his bottom lip, Viktor’s hips now moving sensually against his.

“Viktor.” He tried again. _This isn’t real_ , Yuuri thought, _this had to be some kind of dream._ _What is going on?_ Realizing the absurdity of the situation gave Yuuri a moment of clarity. He pushed Viktor back this time far enough that Yuuri heard a distinct ‘pop’ against his throat as the suction was released. Viktor looked confused, moving his eyes up to Yuuri, but his face was still clouded with lust. Yuuri had to speak quickly before he lost his chance. Before this got out of hand. What was happening?

“What do you mean by that?” Yuuri asked, and Viktor frowned. He tried to move back in but Yuuri kept his hands firm where they sat on Viktor’s chest. The Russian suddenly smiled, as if remembering what he’d said earlier, then stood up straight. He moved his own hand over Yuuri’s and lifted both of them to his lips. He kissed Yuuri’s palm and then placed it against his cheek. Yuuri flushed again, feeling that that way too intimate a reaction for two people who had just met.

“You were beautiful, moy sholnisko.” Viktor said, “I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

And Yuuri reeled. Nothing was making any sense! What did he mean?

“Wh- What? Wh- W- When?” Yuuri stuttered, now completely bewildered. Viktor’s smile wavered, and his brows drew together. He looked like he was about to speak, but upon looking into Yuuri’s eyes, he froze. Suddenly Viktor’s entire demeanor changed, and his eyes widened. Yuuri gazed searchingly into them, trying to understand what exactly was going on in Viktor’s brain. Did he think Yuuri was someone else? Had they met before but Yuuri didn’t remember it? Surely he wasn’t talking about that tiny moment at the banquet when they’d made eye contact, right?

Viktor’s eyes looked horrified all of a sudden and he dropped Yuuri’s hand like it burned him. He drew away, taking one step and then another, not seeming to notice he was walking through a puddle of cooled tea. Yuuri just wanted to understand. None of this made any sense!

“You don’t remember.” Viktor suddenly said, his hand sliding out from around Yuuri’s waist and moving to grip his forehead. He turned away, hiding his eyes. Yuuri realized he’d done something really _really_ wrong, but had no idea how to fix it.

“Remember what?” He asked instead, still feeling disorganized, like the rug was pulled out from under his feet, and by the look Viktor was wearing, he felt the same.

“You don’t remember.” Viktor said again, this time more to himself. There was now at least five feet of space between them, Viktor on the other side of the kitchen. He turned away, jerking to the side, his hand landing on the door frame. “I should go.” He said. Yuuri’s heart was now beating even faster. He messed up, he _royally_ messed up and now Viktor was leaving and Yuuri said something _really really_ wrong but he had no idea what to do. Yuuri felt a pressure in his chest looking at Viktor’s downcast face. _What have I done?_

At that Viktor moved through the doorway back into the living room, and Yuuri could do nothing but follow him.

“Wait!” he called, “Viktor, what do you mean I don’t remember? What happened? Why did you kiss me?” Yuuri was rushing through the doorway and watched, helpless as Viktor began pulling on the trousers that were draped over the hearth. They were probably still damp, but Viktor didn’t even seen to register that fact. He didn’t answer any of Yuuri’s questions. Yuuri was too startled to approach, afraid of messing something up even worse, so he simply watched, completely distraught from behind the couch as Viktor collected his things.

Of course he would mess this up. Of course it was some kind of fluke that the Viktor Nikiforov would have any interest in him. Nothing nearly as magical as running into his idol and kissing him in his kitchen could ever happen to a nobody like Yuuri Katsuki without dire consequences. He’d had his chance and he blew it. What was worse was that he didn’t even know what he’d done wrong. He should have just kept his mouth shut. But looking at Viktor, who wouldn’t meet his eyes, Yuuri decided that would have been even worse. Especially if Viktor thought he was someone he wasn’t.

Viktor was sliding on his jacket, Makkachin’s leash already in his hands as his poodle whined at the door, trying to tug free, but Viktor held fast to it. Vicchan was following them, licking Makkachin’s face like a final goodbye. It struck Yuuri that he was right, they were going to be heartbroken after this.

Yuuri recognized right when Viktor was about to open the door, not even going to say anything, just disappear from Yuuri’s life like the kiss never even happened, and in a last ditch effort, Yuuri spoke with sadness lacing his voice.

“What did I do wrong?” He asked pathetically, more wondering to himself than actually looking for an answer from Viktor. The man in question paused, halting his scrambled escape from the cozy, fire warmed apartment.

Viktor turned back towards Yuuri and Yuuri was shocked to see unshed tears in Viktor’s eyes. _What have I done?_ Yuuri thought for the hundredth time in under a minute. Viktor gave a sad smile, shaking his head like it didn’t matter. _It does matter!_

“You’ve done nothing, dorogoy,” he said. “It’s my fault.” And that just confused Yuuri further. “I’m so sorry.” He finished, then walked out the door, and out of Yuuri’s life.

Yuuri stood in his living room, completely dumfounded at what exactly just happened.

_What did I do?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Sorry to leave things on such a sour note, but don't worry! This isn't the end for our dynamic duo and their degenerate -dalmatians- poodles. Also, if you haven't seen 101D, i highly recommend watching the two scenes this fic is based on. I literally use the exact dialogue in some parts because it's pretty great. And if you're as big of a fan of 101D as I am, you'll notice that the part where they wrap the leashes around Viktor and Yuuri's legs isn't actually from the 1996 version, but from the disney cartoon version. I just really liked that scene and combined them, sue me. The rest of the fic will go way off track from 101D though, so get ready for some surprises!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always welcome! tell me how I did! and follow me on tumblr- if that's your thing- at trenchcoatedsoldier.tumblr.com 
> 
> with love~ Meg.


	3. In the Doghouse

Yuuri spends the next week holed up in his room, ignoring his phone messages and only getting out of bed to feed and walk Vicchan. He makes a few microwavable meals for himself, but for the most part he sticks to chips and guacamole.

He’s no stranger to his slumps here and there, but he just can’t seem to perk himself back up after his (horrifying/confusing/downright traumatizing) meeting with Viktor Nikiforov. Yuuri has been playing the entire morning over in his head a dozen times or more trying the pinpoint the exact moment where he screwed up, but the only possible point of error he can recall is when he told Viktor he didn’t remember whatever it was he did. _And that’s just so useful isn’t it?_

But if Yuuri’s moping was bad, he had no idea what to call whatever it was Vicchan was doing. The poor boy scraped at the door for hours after Makkachin and Viktor left, to the point that Yuuri had to bolt lock the door to keep his highly intelligent poodle from escaping right after. Over the course of the next couple days, Yuuri could do nothing to stop the insufferable whining and pacing, going so far as to take Vicchan on a two hour walk (in the exact _opposite_ direction from the park) the next day. Alas, nothing had worked, and Vicchan seemed to be at the moping stage Yuuri currently found himself, the poodle curling up in his dog bed by the fireplace and not leaving unless he got hungry or was dragged out for a walk.

Yuuri could understand the feeling, his own jilted rejection keeping him bedridden and unsociable for over ten days now, but who was counting? Over hours of deliberation, Yuuri had come to the conclusion that Viktor had to of assumed Yuuri was someone else. It was the only thing that made sense. He went over every single moment he could recall seeing Viktor Nikiforov in person (a total of 3, once when he was in the Junior Grand Prix and Viktor had just started making costumes for men’s singles) and each time he came back with no memory of even speaking two words to the man.

His brain come up with more and more ridiculous ways he could be the Yuuri Viktor wanted him to be, some of which included Yuuri falling into a severe anxiety attack and Viktor comforting him, only for Yuuri to not remember it afterword’s (this having to take place during the GPF last year before his skate or something), to Viktor having been a fan of _Yuuri’s_ and knowing everything about him, only for Yuuri to ignore him. However, that thought Yuuri had tossed aside nearly immediately simply because it was more likely for him to have been stone cold drunk during his free skate and doing something ridiculous to get Viktor’s attention than Viktor being a fan of his.

No, the only possible reason Viktor Nikiforov, one of the most appraised fashion designers in the world, let alone figure skating, would _ever_ react to seeing Yuuri… in the way that he had… was if he thought Yuuri was someone entirely different. With that in mind, if Yuuri ever _was_ to see Viktor again, it would be hard to simply brush off their… romantic… encounter.

What about next year? Yuuri had pretty much made up his mind that he would finish school while he took this time off from this year’s Nationals, Four Continents and Worlds and then head back to either Hasetsu or Detroit to train on his own. He’d decide on whether to compete for one more year once he got back on the ice after graduation and see what he could do.

But if he were to return to the figure skating community… and by some miracle qualify for the GPF… what if Viktor saw him again? Would he pretend nothing had happened? Probably. That’s what any normal person who didn’t have crushing anxiety and the social skills of a table would do. But could Yuuri live with that? Well, that probably wasn’t even a question considering it really wasn’t up to him. He’d have to deal with whatever Viktor decided and just take cues from him on how to handle it.

Yuuri rolled over on his bed at that thought, crushing the pillow into his face. It would be so embarrassing seeing Viktor again. Yuuri would probably not know what to do with his hands, or legs, or face and end up just melting into the floor and slinking away once he saw him. _God, to be rejected by Viktor Nikiforov, who would have thought I’d ever even get the honor?_ , Yuuri thought, bitterly.

And then to see him, even on social media over the last couple days, had been hard enough. Hard because it was impossible to look at Viktor’s face without remembering what his _lips_ looked like up close, what they felt like against his, what his _mouth_ tasted like, what his hands _felt_ like, what his _hips_ could do… And then if Yuuri were to see him in person again someday? It would be unbearable. The knowledge he carried was not meant for any mere mortal to know!

But Yuuri knew. He knew and he couldn’t stop picturing it. Over and over and _over_ again. The way Viktor had been so _forceful_ with his kisses, like he couldn’t get enough of Yuuri– but no. Those kisses weren’t meant for Yuuri. They were meant for someone else who must just look like him. Yuuri wasn’t about to try and figure out what happened to Viktor in his personal life to get him to that point of desperation, nor was it any of his business to. He had to let this go, he had to get out of bed, he had to move past that dreamlike moment and remember that he still had rent to pay, and a dog to walk, and a future to figure out.

Yuuri sat up with a sigh, rubbing his face and pushing his glasses askew. He looked over to his night stand, where piles of junk food and plastic cups and paper plates sat, mocking him and his lack of energy to go about life like a functioning adult. He checked his phone lying next to him to see who’d been trying to get ahold of him this week, and when all he found were a few text from some friends and two missed calls from Mari, he decided he’d deal with it later.

Instead he got up and began clearing away the old food and stale pieces of pizza he’d ordered last night. He brought his bedroom trashcan over and began throwing everything in, tidying the space and then moving to his desk to sort out a few miscellaneous items he’d set there until it wasn’t a leaning tower of junk anymore.

His mother would be so disappointed if she could see him right now.

Vicchan came walking over having heard the commotion of cleaning, but maintained his distance. The gray poodle had been keeping space between them ever since Viktor and Makkachin left, like he was mad at Yuuri for making them leave. Yuuri couldn’t blame him. He was mad at himself for it too. But Vicchan was being petty and showing his anger with Yuuri by refusing to even sleep on his bed with him at night since then.

He bent over to pick a few things up off the floor, glancing over at his poodle as Vicchan just stared at him, sitting in the doorway. Yuuri sighed and went back to cleaning, but spoke loud enough so Vicchan knew his ire was addressed to him.

“What do you want from me, Vicchan?” Yuuri stood and turned around, giving the dog his full attention when all he got was a huff in return. “There’s nothing I can do about it. They left and they’re never coming back.” Vicchan immediately let out a bark in protest, but he lowered his head down to the carpet, and covered his snout with a paw. Yuuri felt guilty then, upsetting Vicchan like that and set down the garbage can to kneel down next to him and stroke the grey poodle’s fur.

“Don’t worry boy,” he said, “There are other dogs in the dog park.” But even as he said it, he felt even worse. How common was it for dogs to find love anyway? And with Vicchan’s stubborn streak, he’d probably stay angry about this until Yuuri was old and gray himself just to spite him. Yuuri had resigned himself to a life time of dealing with a heartbroken dog the moment Makkachin walked out of their apartment. He figured he should be more upset about it, but Yuuri just felt sad. Poor Vicchan.

He hugged Vicchan to his chest, and to his surprise after their fight all week, Vicchan cuddled closer, draping his head over Yuuri’s shoulder and nuzzling into his neck. Yuuri cooed and stroked down Vicchan’s back. They held the embrace for a solid five minutes, Yuuri simply taking comfort in his dog’s cuddles, but then he stood, wiped his face of the tears he was unaware that had squeaked out, and made for the kitchen.

“It’s getting late, how do you feel about some dinner?” he asked. Vicchan had been eating less and less as the days wore on and it became more apparent that Makkachin wasn’t coming back. Vicchan trotted along behind him and let out a quiet ‘roof’ of agreement before settling down on the kitchen floor to wait for Yuuri to prepare his own dinner.

“No more ramen and takeout,” he spoke down to the poodle, “Mama would be so upset to see us living like pigs.” With a new resolve from thinking of his mother and trying desperately to _never again_ think of a certain male celebrity, Yuuri took out a small metal sauce pan and a cutting board and set to work on dinner.

Within minutes, Yuuri settled into the easy motions of making miso soup, a simple recipe he learned when he was around five years old. Cooking such simple dishes was practically muscle memory for Yuuri and he found his thoughts calming the longer he waited for the water to boil.

He began cutting up some vegetables and took out the ingredients for Vicchan’s specialty dog food. He usually only cooked it for him as a treat, but after weeks of store bought dog food and days of lovesickness, Yuuri decided his poodle deserved some gourmet cooking.

Their meals were prepared in just over five minutes and the pair settled down in the small living room to eat. Yuuri thought about lighting the fire, but it was too reminiscent of his time with Viktor that Yuuri decided against it. Instead he turned on the television and flipped through all the Russian shows until he found, surprisingly, a figure skating special on to which he immediately began reading the English subtitles.

_“Here in St. Petersburg, Russia, rising star, Yuri Plisetsky, is gearing up in earnest to join the senior competition.”_

On the screen a young-looking Russian boy with long blonde hair lands a quadruple toe loop, the peak of the third jump nearly clearing the fence.

“Woah!” he says to Vicchan, “Did you see that jump? No, make that two jumps!”

_“The fifteen year old figure skater plans to join the ranks of Georgi Popovich as one of the world’s preeminent male competitive skaters.”_

Yuuri suddenly had a flashback to about a month ago now at the GPF and crying in a stall then some yellow haired Russian boy insulting him then telling him to retire.

_“It’s rumored Plisetsky may be the next champion, fashion design legend, Viktor Nikiforov is looking to dress for next year.”_

He snapped out of it when he felt a heavy paw settle on his arm, his misu and chopsticks forgotten in his hands. Vicchan stared up at him, his brown eyes drawn together and it looked like worry etched onto his face. He let out a whimper and pawed at Yuuri again. Yuuri pat his head a few times, consoling the poodle, but to his confusion, Vicchan raised onto the couch and put his paw now on Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri looked into his eyes, which seemed to say, _What are you waiting for?_

“Alright, Vicchan,” his face now set in determination, “I’m going to do it. I’m going to skate well enough that Viktor Nikiforov wants to dress me for the Grand Prix Final.” Vicchan let out an enthusiastic bark.

 

. . .

 

The next morning Yuuri woke to his alarm clock set earlier than it had been all month. He’d been neglecting his exercises so he would have to make up for that by pushing himself a little harder these next few weeks. Since he’d taken off half the season to focus on school, Yuuri imagined he’d have a lot more time to train and get in shape for next season too. It wasn’t the same as being in the prime condition competitions required, but he supposed it would have to do.

Yuuri didn’t waste any time getting ready for the day, even waking without Vicchan jumping on him like usual in the mornings. He brushed his teeth while he quickly grabbed a granola bar and a pre-made protein shake in a bottle from the fridge before hooking his poodle to his leash and bundling up for his run. No bike today, he had too much energy for first thing in the morning.

Vicchan was more excited than ever after over a week of sitting and doing nothing except quick walks around the block, so getting anxious for the run, he was practically bouncing off the walls as Yuuri dressed in his windbreaker and gloves.

Yuuri had looked briefly online last night to find a skating rink with open skate times that hopefully wouldn’t be too crowded for him to step back on the ice after almost a month without. He found a hole in the wall rink in the neighborhood just next door that was within running distance and got everything set so he could leave first thing.

The pair was out the door, destination plotted into Yuuri’s phone, and a steady pace set as they made their way down the road and off towards their morning. Yuuri’s backpack felt heavy on his shoulders, the weight not quite unfamiliar, but intensified during his off time. Skates were heavier than people thought when you had to lug them all through town.

They made their way through a few wandering pathways, seemingly deep in the jungle of small apartment complexes that sit snug against another and the streets allow parking with trees hanging overhead. It was fairly picturesque what with the early morning sun still making it’s way up the horizon and the fresh snow twinkling on the ground. It wasn’t much, but a thin layer coated all the cars and streets, still untouched due to the early hour.

Yuuri could see the buildings parting, getting a litter further spaced out as he saw the rink in the distance. There seemed to be a school nearby, but the jungle gym outside was still deserted. Yuuri frowned. If there were kids nearby, the rink may be popular for families and fairly busy. He forgot to check the calendar before he left, but he was sure it was a Saturday. Surely he could get some morning practice in if he asked the front desk nicely?

As he was approaching the building he began to slow, but to his annoyance, Vicchan didn’t he tried to pull back on the leash, but the poodle was raring to go, sniffing the air almost obsessively the whole way here and even moreso the closer they got to the rink. Yuuri turned into the parking area, ready to make his way up the stairs and into the building, but with one harsh yank on the other end of the leash, Vicchan took off down the path, continuing the trail they were just on.

Yuuri let out a yelp, calling after him and immediately gave chase, getting real sick of his rambunctious poodle not listening while they were out and about. However, the speed in which Vicchan ran sent a pulse of fear through Yuuri, worried he’d be unable to catch up.

Lucky for him, when Vicchan noticed Yuuri following, he slowed to a stop, turning in a circle a few times, jumping around and wagging his tail. Vicchan was smart enough to not go in the road, and there was relatively no traffic at this hour, but Yuuri still had streams of anxiety racing through his veins at the prospect of Vicchan being loose in the streets. He’d just about caught up to the poodle when he started running again and Yuuri cursed his name.

“Vicchan! What are you doing? Come back here!” He could tell Vicchan heard him and _knew_ he understood him, but the poodle ignored his owner’s frantic calls. Yuuri took a second to glance around, making sure to check where they were so he could find the way back, but when he did, he was surprised to note that they were close to the airport, and a bridge was coming up on the path before them.

It was only about a mile from the previous rink, but periodically, Vicchan would stop, excited but patient, wait for Yuuri to just about catch up, and then take off again. Yuuri was lucky he was an athlete or he would never be able to follow Vicchan this far. He’d already spent his morning running.

They were crossing the bridge and Yuuri looked over just in time to see the sun rising over the river. It was a breathtaking sight, and normally Yuuri would stop to appreciate the view properly, but in his current circumstances he’d pushed on instead.

It was only once they were on the other side and a tall yellow building stood looming ahead did Yuuri realize they were on the edge of the business district of St. Petersburg. What on earth was Vicchan bringing him here for?

Vicchan turned sharply into the front entrance area of the complex, finally turning off the path lain, and to Yuuri’s utter shock, bounded up the steps and then promptly sat on the rug in front of the glass doors. Yuuri was shaking his head, _unbelievable,_ he thought, absolutely _done_ with Vicchan’s unusual behavior lately. Yuuri had finally caught up and immediately leapt for Vicchan’s collar. The poodle didn’t even react, simply letting Yuuri drag him to the clip on his leash. Instead he looked pleased with his betrayal, wagging his tail with his tongue hanging out of his drooling mouth. Yuuri looked around, standing up now that Vicchan was securely at his side once again.

“Where the heck did you take me, Vicchan?” he asked. It didn’t take too much wondering through, just a glance at the glass of the door for Yuuri to see, for him to know where they were.

“An ice rink?” An now Yuuri was really confused. He looked down at Vicchan, who stared up at him. “What was wrong with the one we were just at?” he said, annoyed, but Vicchan didn’t respond, but let out an impatient huff and a shrill whine. Then Yuuri just glared at him, to which Vicchan barked back. Yuuri rolled his eyes, but decided since he was already here, he might as well give the rink a shot. According to the hours on the door, the place was open at least.

Upon entering the building, he was immediately exposed to such ornate decoration, he felt like he was dirtying the floor just standing in it. There was a desk in the front, _helpful,_ that Yuuri made his way over to, still a little awed and uncomfortable in the space around him. This was a little excessive just for a skating rink, wasn’t it?

“Hi! How can I help you?” A cheerful voice asked from the desk. Yuuri gave her a hesitant smile as he approached.

“Is it alright if I bring him in here?” he said, indicating down to Vicchan.

“Oh, of course! We have dogs in here all the time!”

“Oh, okay great.” He paused for a moment, forgetting what he was suppose to say next in this situation. The woman was helpful though and prompted him.

“What can I do for you this morning?” She was all smiles and delicate politeness that made Yuuri relax a little, reminding him of Yukko back home.

“Right, yeah, um, well,” he kept stumbling but wasn’t sure if he should introduce himself as a professional skater to get more rink time or just be upfront with what he wanted. “I’m– my name is Katsuki Yuuri and I was hoping I could use one of your rinks for a private practice?”

At the mention of his name, the receptionist’s eyes widened, clearly recognizing him, and gave him a blinding smile larger than any during their exchange so far.

“Katsuki Yuuri! Well of course! I must say I’m surprised to see you still in Russia, but we’ve got a few rinks open right now,” and Yuuri figured as much, seeing the size of this place, “I’ll just need you to sign our log and then I can escort you over to one!” Yuuri nodded and signed where directed. Then he waited for the woman to come out from behind a door close by, walking him down a wide hallway and through a few open rooms that he assumed were used as locker spaces, although they looked a little too fancy for just that purpose.

“Sorry I can’t give you the main rink, but there’s another private session in there right now, with a few of Russia’s best putting on a special exhibition for some big name or another. Very exciting!”

“Oh, that’s okay. Any rink will work,” he replied, as sincere as he could. Vicchan was sniffing around madly again, but Yuuri was too busy appreciating the décor to pay it too much attention. A new place in a strange country would cause any dog to act the same anyway.

The woman kept rambling on all the way up to the point where she was unlocking two large doors, and then stepped aside.

“We have a hockey match in here later today for a local team, but we wont need to start getting it ready until this afternoon, so please, take your time!” Yuuri thanked her for her kindness and when she complimented him on his skating, he thanked her for her support. She asked if he could autograph something for her before he left, to which he agreed, and then it was just him and Vicchan left alone in the rink.

He shut the doors behind him, thankful that there wasn’t a glass wall exposing him to the hallway like some of the other rinks he passed, and proceeded to let Vicchan off the leash. The poodle immediately walked over to the carpeted area and laid down.

Yuuri followed him, taking a seat at the bench nearby and removed his backpack, getting out his skates and taking off his running shoes. It only took a few moments before he was finally, blessedly, back on the ice. He supposed it was lucky that the woman at the desk knew him so he could get a private rink, and sent a silent praise to Vicchan for somehow knowing to come here. Who knows what would have been available at the other place? And this rink wasn’t that much further, only a mile or so.

Yuuri began with a few simple warm ups, working on his figures and a few laps around the rink. He brought his headphones but he didn’t want Vicchan to have to sit in silence, so he placed his phone on the half wall and turned the speakers up, listening to nothing in particular, but getting his mind attuned to skating in a rhythm.

After about fifteen minutes of this, he felt the need to do a run through– something to really hone him back into his skating. He made his way back towards the wall and scrolled through his phone until he found his old free skate music. He hesitated over the play button though, thinking back to the last time he’d tried to perform this piece.

Shame and humiliation filled him, but he was alone now, his only audience Vicchan, who he could trust more than anyone else. He looked down at his companion who helped his out just this morning.

“What do you think, Vicchan? Should I try it?” Vicchan looked up at the sound of his name, and barked in agreement. That settled it then. Yuuri grabbed his phone and drew his headphone out of his track pants pocket. He then skated back to center ice, preparing for the show for one.

“Watch me closely, Vicchan!” He called out. Then he placed the headphones into his ears and pressed play, depositing his phone into his pocket.

The music started at a leisurely pace, not very demanding in the first few notes, but then the chords began build on one another, sending Yuuri across the ice at neck break speeds. He’d run through a few jumps earlier, but had yet to try a quad. The first jump of this program was a quad toe loop, but Yuuri refused to hesitate. Instead he thrust his body into the jump full force, digging the toe pick in and launching into the air. In all fairness, it probably wasn’t smart to attempt such a just after being off ice for almost a month now with little setup, but he landed it clean and threw himself into the next steps.

It went like that for the entirety of the song, Yuuri pushing his limits and forcing the jumps that he was afraid his sluggish body wouldn’t want to land, but they all came out beautifully. It took him a few moments to get his footing into the feel of the program, but once he did, he felt his body moving to the music the way he’d first imagined when he helped create this program. He danced and spun and launched himself all across the ice, only stumbling once out of a spread eagle into a triple axel, but the touchdown did nothing to reduce his momentum. His legs worked through muscle memory into the final steps of the song, when a sudden crash sent his headphones out of his ears and his back slamming against the ice.

“W- What?”

He blinked a few times, trying to figure out what sent him off balance, when a barrage of liking overtook his face. He jerked his head this way and that to avoid it, trying to stand but the sting in his back keeping his stationary for a few more seconds to catch his breath.

“Vicchan! What? What are you doing on the ice? Get off me!” He yelled, disoriented and confused as to why his poodle suddenly felt the need to attack him on the ice.

“Oh my. Are you alright?” A panicked voice asked from the edge of the rink. And… for some reason that voice sounded familiar. Yuuri finally got his senses back and pushed the poodle’s neck up, practically lifting the dog bodily off him. The poodle protested, lurching to get in more kisses, but Yuuri sat up fast, keeping it at an arms length.

“Makkachin! Enough!” The voice yelled. And–

wait.

Yuuri’s eyes focused on the poodle in front of him, trying to sit across his lap probably due to the chill in it’s paws from the ice. Yuuri drew back, noticing not grey, but _brown_ curls decorating the standard poodle in front of him. In a fit of panic, his head snapped over towards where he’d heard the voice calling out, and yep.

That was Viktor Nikiforov.

_What the HELL???_

 

. . .

 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Viktor asked him, concern lacing his tone. He’d fretted over Yuuri’s shoulder the whole time while Yuuri sat to take off his skates. Yuuri kept his face downcast, not wanting his anxiety and panic over the situation showing on his face. His arms trembled as he unlaced his skates, but other than that, he thought he was doing a pretty good job completely ignoring the situation. Maybe if he just pretended Viktor wasn’t here he’d go away. He didn’t want to deal with this right now, not so soon! _Not at_ all _!_

“Yuuri, please.” Viktor whispered, seeming a little… sad? What would he have to be upset about? Yuuri scrunched his eyes closed, he just couldn’t _deal_ with this right now.

“Is there anything I can get you?” he tried again after a moment of silence when Yuuri ignored him. “A bottle of water, a heating pack, a–”

“What are you doing here, Viktor?” Yuuri asked instead, cutting him off. He looked up then, trying to prepare himself but finding it utterly futile when his eyes connected with deep aqua blue. None of this made any sense. Why did Viktor keep popping up? Why did he do these things that only conflicted Yuuri?

Viktor must have seen the distress in Yuuri’s face, because he suddenly sat down right next to Yuuri on the bench, but was conscious enough to leave a good foot of space between them.

“It’s Makkachin…” he started, glancing down at the poodles who were snuggled together on the carpet, licking each other lovingly. “I was at another rink, watching a performance for work when she suddenly just… took off.

“I ran down the halls after her, not wanting her to get outside but she just lead me here. I must say, I was curious about her sudden interest in this rink, so… I opened the door for here and…”

“And…” Yuuri prompted. Viktor locked eyes with him, his blue blue eyes staring right into his soul.

“And there you were.”

Yuuri wanted to scoff and call bull, but after all of the strange things Vicchan had been doing this week, he found the story actually pretty believable. Yuuri suddenly had the urge to explain his own reason for being here, even if he was a figure skater. In an ice rink. It wasn’t that strange he was here.

“Vicchan took off on me this morning.” Yuuri began, going back to putting on his shoes now that his skates were off. He moved his hands slowly, needing something to occupy them and not wanting Viktor’s eyes gaged on him like that. “He pulled out of my hands right as we got to another rink closer to home. He made me chase him two miles just to end up at this rink.” Yuuri sighed. It made sense now though.

“I guess now I get why he was so intent on me practicing here instead.” To Yuuri’s surprise, Viktor let out a burst of laughter, to which Yuuri raised his head. Viktor covered his mouth, as if surprised himself by the noise, but didn’t take his eyes off Yuuri’s once they reconnected.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Viktor said, his voice charming and his eyes sparkling with mirth. Yuuri couldn’t help himself, he let out a chuckle of his own. Yuuri was being unnaturally calm in the presence of someone he’d last been _very_ awkward with, and the need to address it was slowly choking him. But Viktor’s eyes were so kind, and how was he acting so normal about it? So much for all the thinking Yuuri had done regarding this very meeting for the past eleven days. He thought he’d have _months_ maybe even _years_ if he didn’t qualify right away. And yet. They were still staring at each other, Yuuri’s hands long since stilled on his shoes.

“Listen, Viktor–“ Yuuri began, but was cut off when the doors to the rink burst open with a loud BANG.

“WHERE IS HE?” And in stormed none other than Yuri Plisetsky, the Russian punk.

Yuuri noticed Viktor let out a sigh, still not having turned to address the doorway as if this sort of thing happened all the time. He smiled again at Yuuri before turning around to address the other Yuri.

“Yuri! So glad you found me, now, come say hi to Yuuri!” Viktor smiled that heart shaped smile, but it seemed a little more forced since the last time Yuuri had seen it. Or maybe he was just projecting his own annoyance. Yeah, that was probably more likely.

Russian Yuri seemed confused by Viktor’s words, but once he made his way further into the rink, he glanced behind Viktor to notice him.

“Yuuri Katsuki? What are you doing here?” He asked, sounding more annoyed than angry thankfully. Yuuri did not want to be on the receiving end of Yuri’s anger ever again thank you very much.

Yuuri began twiddling his thumbs, lowering his eyes, and his leg started to bounce uncontrollably.

He was saved from having to answer though when another voice joined the conversation. A large angry Russian man came stomping through the same doorway, his eyes red and his fists clenched. He looked ready to punch someone.

“Viktor! What are you doing in here?” The angry Russian yelled.

“Ah, Yakov,” Viktor said in a pleased yet slightly nervous tone. “Sorry, but I couldn’t let Makkachin wonder off on her own! You know how dogs can be sometimes.” He gave both Russians in front of him a shrug and then looked down meaningfully towards the two poodles, still wrapped in their own world.

“I don’t care about your stupid poodle, Nikiforov!” Yuri shouted, “You were suppose to be watching my program and coming up with designs!”

“With how long it took you to find me, I assume you finished it?” Viktor asked.

“Yes, but–“

“Then what’s the problem?” and the way Viktor said it, he made it seem like there was truly nothing wrong with the scenario Yuuri had been putting together piece by piece. “I didn’t ruin your practice. We can just run it again later.” That tone also reminded him of something similar he’d heard before from the man.

_I think my dog is in love._

_Why is that a problem?_

Yuuri sighed, trying to clear the thought from his mind. It obviously became a very serious problem, if the way Vicchan had moped for days after was anything to go by, _and the way I’d moped,_ his brain, not helpful, supplied. Yuuri snapped back to the current moment in time when Yuri Plisetsky let out a grumble-groan sound that caused the Japanese man to flinch at the volume.

“Vitya,” the man called Yakov said, his arms crossed and voice more even than before, “Enough with this nonsense. Collect your dog and let’s return to Yuri’s program.” Now Yuri was looking at Viktor expectantly. It seemed all three Russians had completely forgotten he was even here, that was until Viktor turned around to stare at him again with a certain look in his eyes that Yuuri couldn’t place.

“But Yakov, I don’t think Makka would come with me right now even if I tried to drag her!” He moaned.

“Then leave her here and come back after we’re finished.” Yakov said, and it appeared he was the voice of reason in these kinds of situations. Viktor noticeably perked up at this, and wow could his mood change on a dime.

“That’s a great idea, Yakov!” Viktor swung back around to Yuuri, scooting closer and seeming to ignore his reluctance from before around him. Yuuri hadn’t forgotten his though, and drew his hand away at the last second before Viktor could fully place his own on top it. Viktor didn’t seem bothered by this though and instead pushed on.

“Yuuri, how long will you be in this rink?” Yuuri looked up at Yakov and the other Yuri worriedly. They were probably getting impatient with all of this and Yuuri didn’t want to do what they were suggesting, but he also didn’t want to prolong this any further.

“Uh, at least until noon,” he said.

“Fantastic!” Viktor scooted those two inches closer so they were pressed thigh to thigh on the bench. If Yuuri moved back any further he’d topple over the end of it. This was getting exhausting, keeping his distance around Viktor every time they spoke. _Was this going to become a reoccurring thing?_ “How do you feel about watching Makkachin for a few hours while a continue business in the other rink?” He asked so earnestly that there was no way Yuuri could decline even if he wanted to.

He spared a glance towards the now apparently dozing poodles, Makkachin’s head was lain casually over Vicchan’s back and his paws were resting over hers. It would be downright cruel to separate them right now.

“I– I suppose I could do that.” He said.

“Oh, Yuuri, thank you!” Viktor had grabbed hold of Yuuri’s hands all of a sudden and was gripping them to his own chest. He looked intently into Yuuri’s eyes, as if trying to force his gratitude in through his sight and down into his heart to feel it back. Yuuri pulled back, felt his balance sway on the end of the bench, and only because of Viktor’s grasp on his hands was he kept from toppling over backwards. Viktor pulled him back so that he was flush against his chest.

Yuuri’s heart picked up tenfold and he synched his eyes shut, not wanting to watch the aftermath of this. He could just barely feel Viktor’s hands tighten one last time before suddenly his warmth was gone and Yuuri’s hands were dropped. He opened his eyes, startled by the sudden move.

“Well if that’s settled,” the Russian Yuri said with a sneer, “Can we _please_ get back to my program?”

“Yes, yes of course, _kotenok._ ” Viktor said, and then the three of them made their way back out the two swinging doors, back the way they came. Before Viktor exited the doorway though, he turned and spared one final glance at Yuuri, that same unidentifiable look in his eyes from before. He simply smiled, sent a kiss to his dog, and left.

 _What was that all about?_ Yuuri thought. Then he looked back at the poodles. Vicchan was back to licking Makkachin’s fur.

_And what did I just get myself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo! Howdy it's been a rough week. I wanted the title to have something to do with cats and dogs since Yurio shows up - idk something like 'Catfight' or 'cat got the cream' idk I couldn't come up with anything cool. 
> 
> anyway I also just wanted to make a note that I know Yurio comes into the major narrative of cannon a bit later during the off season, since right now in the timeline of this fic he'd technically be gearing up for the junior worlds or nationals, but I figured since Yuuri's in Russia, it'd be more likely to have a special on the kid now since Viktor is preparing to choose a champion to dress. And Russia would report on that sooner than when Yuuri in cannon heard about it. Anyway that's my logic in case you were wondering. 
> 
> And in case you didn't already figure, Makkachin absolutely adores Yuuri in this universe too. Stay tuned! 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always welcome! tell me how I did! and follow me on tumblr- if that's your thing- at trenchcoatedsoldier.tumblr.com


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